


The Satyr

by rutobuka, yubiwamonogatari



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fauns & Satyrs, Language Barrier, M/M, Magical Realism, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Thorin is a satyr, set in middle earth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-04-27 10:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5045371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rutobuka/pseuds/rutobuka, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yubiwamonogatari/pseuds/yubiwamonogatari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wandering near the Old Forest on one of his walking holidays, Bilbo comes across a strange creature in need of help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In The Forest

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little collab series between the incredible talented, wonderful [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com), and myself. The beautiful art was drawn by [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com) and the words written by myself!
> 
> You can find me [on Tumblr](http://www.yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com)!

Bilbo froze, an eerie feeling slithering up and down his spine like icy fingers. He curled his toes into the soft dirt on the borders of the Old Forest and took a slow, deep breath.

Someone, or something, was making a low, sing-song moaning noise in the early morning dawn. Despite the chill in the air Bilbo felt sweat prick his body, his fingers shaking as he gripped the straps of his backpack hard. He rather wished he had picked up a nice, thick walking stick at some point during his walking-holiday – but being only forty, he really had no need of one.

As it was, he had no stick, and no way of defending himself from whatever horrible creature was lurking just beyond the treeline, and-- …

The moan broke off into what was definitely a sob. And then a soft, agonized whine.

“Oh,” Bilbo breathed, toes curling deeper into the earth, “Oh... Oh bother. Bother, bother, bother.” 

He started to stride towards the trees, heart jumping around in his chest like an over-excited rabbit.

What if it was some young hobbit? Or one of the menfolk, or someone entirely innocent and very much in need of help? Another solo walker, like himself, who had wandered too far in the fabled, ancient woodland?

Or, his mind added – just as he stepped into the forest – it was some frightful wight luring him in, hungry for its breakfast and wishing for a delicious, hobbit-sized bite. 

Yes, he really wished he had that nice stick, now.

“Carefully does it,” whispered Bilbo to himself as he crept further towards the noise. He huddled down behind a large, rotten tree stump – the whining coming from the little glade just beyond it. If he peeped over the top now, or from around the side, he'd be able to see whatever was making those mournful sounds.

Bilbo swallowed hard and slowly leaned over, peering around the mossy wood.

On its back with both arms and one leg ensnared in a nasty wolf-trap was a creature of the like Bilbo had never even read about, much less seen. It seemed to have the head, chest, and arms of a man, and the legs of some sort of goat, or ram. Two long, black ears stuck out from masses of dark hair, chest and arms and face almost furred with it – and from his head two little pale horns were just visible.

The ropes were tight around its wrists and one ankle, cleverly looped around the tree trunks to trap it in place, and tanned skin was dirtied with mud, leaves, and twigs from where it had been fighting the bonds. Its chest heaved, a glimmer of sweat over its torso, eyes closed, and its face...

Oh, its face.

There was such pain and misery there Bilbo's heart ached. Whatever this was, it was a thinking, feeling creature – and it didn't _seem_ dangerous. Just hurt.

He couldn't leave it.

Just as he was steeling himself to stand the creature's eyelids flew open and it's head whipped around – and Bilbo found himself struck by the terror in its gaze, and how beautiful and blue its eyes were. A summer afternoon's blue, or the hue of salvia flowers at dusk.

It growled loudly, and began to thrash against the bonds. Those hooves, Bilbo thought nervously as he slowly stood up and watched the unbound one send clods of earth flying into the air with the force of its struggle, could cause some serious damage. And though the creature didn't seem too much bigger than himself, it was certainly stronger.

“I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to try and help you,” he said, taking a few steps towards it.

Bilbo flinched back as it cried out, a squawk erupting from his own mouth and his knees knocking together. He held his hands up, flapping them at the creature and trying not to show how much of a fright it had given him.

“Now look!” he exclaimed, heart pounding, “There's no need for that! I'm trying to--!”

It cried out again, louder than before, and pulled so hard at the bonds Bilbo believed for a moment the ropes would snap. The trees groaned, and the creature slumped with a broken, defeated noise. It fell silent, panting for breath, and as Bilbo took another step closer he could see how it trembled ever so slightly.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” he said softly, hoping it could understand him.

But how on earth was he going to free him from those horrible ropes?

[ ](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com)


	2. Unbound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little collab series between the incredible talented, wonderful [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com), and myself. The beautiful art was drawn by [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com) and the words written by myself!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr!](http://www.yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com)

 

 

 

Bilbo took a deep breath and held both his hands up, palms facing outwards. The creature was obviously in pain, the skin around its wrists red and swollen where the rope was digging in.

“Poor thing,” he whispered, inching forward. When the creature didn't kick or shout again he took the last few emboldened steps, sinking to his knees beside it. The damp, morning chill seeped into his trousers immediately, staining and wetting the corduroy.

“I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. I'm going to help you,” said Bilbo, quietly.

The creature's gaze was fixed on him. Despite the agony on its face and the dark circles under its eyes, they shone so bright and blue Bilbo felt quite breathless for a moment. Then it let out a low, keening noise and pulled again at the ropes.

“Stop that, you're only hurting yourself more,” Bilbo said firmly, putting his hand on top of the creature's before he felt out the ropes. They were thick and tightly woven, tied high up in the trees and cleverly looped to form this ever tightening trap.

Bilbo tugged his stuffed backpack from his shoulders, setting it down beside him and starting to rummage in the pockets.

“Now – if I've been a very clever chap – I've packed a good little paring knife somewhere in here... Aha!”

He pulled out the little blade and promptly dropped it when the creature bellowed, kicking furiously at the soil hard enough the earth seemed to shake under them. Bilbo's heart was slamming against his ribs as he fumbled to pick up the knife.

“Please!” he squeaked, “Please, would you just--!”

The creature bellowed again, and Bilbo's heart ached for it. He clacked his jaw shut and took a deep breath, gritting his teeth as he grabbed the creature's hands and did his best to hold them still as he raised the knife. It clamped its eyes shut, trying desperately to tuck into itself with a pleading noise.

But as Bilbo started to saw at the ropes its eyes snapped open again and it gasped, gaze flicking rapidly between Bilbo's face and the rocking motion of the little knife against the bonds.

“See? I'm helping you. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. I'm helping you.”

One of the ropes snapped, two more still wrapped tight around its wrists and ankle, the creature grunting softly.

“Now... Let's see if we can get a hand free, hmn?” Bilbo smiled, putting down the knife and gently wrapping his fingers around the creature's, guiding its left hand out from the ropes with what he hoped was minimal tugging or pain.

As soon as it was free the creature drew its arm sharply up to its heaving chest, looking at Bilbo with open surprise.

Bilbo smiled gently at it and turned his attention back to the rest of the rope.

The next one snapped in due course, but when he reached for the creature's forearm it cried out in pain. Its right wrist was redder and more swollen on one side, and Bilbo had heard cruel traps like this often left their victims with broken limbs as they tried to escape.

“Oh, poor thing,” he breathed again, taking more care to gently extract the creature's hand from the cruel trap. It brought that one up to its chest as well, cradling it against itself. Bilbo cut the final ropes around its leg, helping it to pull free from the final bonds.

“There,” Bilbo said, quickly putting the blade back in the pocket as the creature slowly sat up. It was still breathing heavily, holding its obviously injured wrist close to itself, but its gaze was softer and – though he was probably being rather fanciful – grateful.

Bilbo pulled out his water skin, uncorking the top and holding it out to the creature. He shook it, the water sloshing a little.

“Here. I should think you probably need to-- Oh!”

He jumped as the being snatched the skin from him with its uninjured hand, so quick Bilbo felt a thrill of fear rush up through him. So fast, and so strong... If it turned nasty he could be in serious trouble.

But all it did was bring the skin to his lips and gulp desperately at the water. Streams escaped, rushing down from its mouth and through its beard, down onto its thick, furred chest.

Bilbo tore his gaze away, clearing his throat.

The poor thing was probably hungry, too. And perhaps cold. He unstrapped his bedroll and blanket from the top of his rucksack, placing them to the side before he pulled out one of his (many) food sacks.

He plucked out a few little bread rolls and a pouch of dried fruits. They were once again snatched from his fingers as he held them out, the creature shoving a whole roll into its mouth with a grunt, struggling to keep a hold on everything in one hand.

It was strangely endearing to watch this queer creature stuff its face, cheeks bulging and water droplets sparkling over its skin.

“Better?” Bilbo asked, taking the empty water skin back when the creature let it drop to the floor in favour of emptying the whole pouch of dried fruits into its mouth. It didn't respond, chewing ferociously.

How long had it been trapped? How long had it been since it had eaten, or drank? How long had it been in pain? Had it been abandoned by others? Did it have a family, or a home?

And what on earth was he going to do with it now?

After all, he could hardly bring it home.

… Could he?

[ ](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com)


	3. Propriety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little collab series between the incredible talented, wonderful [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com), and myself. The beautiful art was drawn by [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com) and the words written by myself!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr!](http://www.yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com)

 

 

 

 

“Well, I suppose you'll just... have to come home with me, then,” Bilbo said – a little weakly. The creature was still chewing frantically on the bread and dried fruits, but as the food ran out its pace slowed until it was done - finishing by wiping a hand over the back of its mouth and letting out a pleased sounding sigh.

It looked over to him, and Bilbo was struck again by the depths in its blue eyes. This wasn't some creature to be trapped or farmed, this was a creature of great intelligence, great strength, great-- ...

It burped, loudly.

Bilbo wrinkled his nose.

“Right. Lovely.” He stood, brushing the grass and damp from his knees and thighs.

How on this green earth was he going to get the creature home? It was a couple of day's walk to Bag End, and he could hardly lead it into the little inns he'd stayed at along the way.

Except... Ahah! If he remembered correctly there was a road, not too far from here, often used by those peddling wares between Bree and the Shire. If he could get the creature to the road, and then onto the back of a cart, why, they could be home in time for supper!

He turned to his pack and pulled out his trusty map, spending a few moments looking it over before he nodded and folded it back into the pocket. There was indeed a road, just north of where they were. A mile or two at the most.

That, Bilbo decided, was the best course of action. Now he just had to somehow get this creature onto a cart and home without any incidents. He cleared his throat, crouching down and pulling out his blanket.

“Right,” he said, “... Right. Let's get this on you. Come on...! Up, onto your feet, please, if you can.”

The creature cocked its head, frowning at him. Bilbo leaned in, reaching out slowly to take its elbow – careful not to jog its injured wrist.

“Come on,” he smiled, “That's it. Up, now. Up...!” he waved his other hand in a gesture quite obvious to him, fingers gently gripping the creature's elbow.

His skin was warm, and surprisingly soft.

It stood, after a second, and Bilbo was left breathless at how tall and sturdy it looked, how robust and... Strong. But it was gently cradling its wrist to its chest, and it was still dirty and exhausted. But it hadn't run off. Not yet, anyway.

“Now. Here,” he said, shaking out his blanket and bringing it to wrap around the creature's waist, hiding his tail and furry legs. He tied it shut in a nice, tight knot, glancing up nervously at the creature's expression.

Bemused. It just looked a bit... Bemused. But not angry, or upset.

“I'm going to help you. Alright? You've just got to trust me. Yes? Good. Now, those ears and horns...” he reached into his bag, pulling out his nightshirt, “Now, just... lean down a little...”

Bilbo reached up, gently tugging at its shoulders so it was leaning over a little, ignoring how his stomach seemed to twist and leap at the heavy, intense look it was giving him. He wrapped his shirt around its head, hiding the horns.

“Sorry, sorry,” he murmured, fingers touching the velvety ears as he tucked them into the shirt, and then turned the end of the shirt into folds to secure it.

He stood back, putting his hands on his hips and looking the strange being up and down.

“Well...! You look... Ridiculous, frankly.”

The creature was standing in what looked like a long skirt, a shirt clearly tied around its head. Which it promptly shook, one ear popping out.

It was incredibly endearing, for a tall, strong, goat-deer-hobbit-dwarf creature. And it would do until they got closer to the road.

“Come on, silly thing. We've got a bit of a walk ahead of us.”

Bilbo reached for its uninjured arm again, starting to slowly lead it by its elbow. It took a few steps, but it soon stumbled a little with a hiss, crouching down to touch over its ankles with another low, pained noise.

“Oh... Poor thing,” Bilbo murmured, gently resting his hand on its back. It looked up, what was definitely a mildly grumpy pout on its face. He crooked a small, sympathetic smile and took its elbow again, guiding it back up. The creature sighed very heavily, its one visible ear drooping.

“I know, I know. We'll be home soon, you'll see. We'll get you all patched up in no time.”

The creature huffed out a noise, leaning heavily on Bilbo as they started to walk. It was rather sweet, at first, but before long it was just heavy, and Bilbo was hot and tired, and rather wished they were already at the road.

After several breaks for the creature to rest its sore ankles and for Bilbo to rest his sore shoulder – not to mention a good amount more food from his pack to coax it back up again – they finally made it to the road. It was for the best, really, because the poor thing had started to really hobble, and its expression was drawn in pain.

“There, you've done the hard part now. Here, sit here,” he said, guiding it over to a boulder by the side of the road and sitting it down – handing over one of the little honey cakes it seemed to like the most. It stuffed the cake into its mouth, cheeks bulging as it chewed.

“Won't be long now,” Bilbo nodded, patting its shoulder. He barely had time to tuck its ear back under the makeshift hat and secure the blanket a little tighter around its waist before he heard the tell-tale clop of hooves.

Bilbo rushed to the road, lifting his arm up as soon as the cart rounded the corner – a hobbit sitting behind the reins.

“Hoy!” Bilbo called, “Excuse me! Over here!”

[ ](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com)


	4. Explanations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little collab series between the incredible talented, wonderful [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com), and myself. The beautiful art was drawn by [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com) and the words written by myself!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr!](http://www.yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com)
> 
> Merry Christmas to those who celebrate the holiday, and we hope everyone has a great day today, regardless of what they celebrate!

 

 

 

As the cart approached them, Bilbo's heart managed to both sink and lift in his chest. He knew the hobbit sitting in the driver's seat. He knew him very well indeed.

“Well... If it isn't my neighbour and gardener, Hamfast,” he whispered to himself, fingers drooping in the air.

He glanced back over to the creature, watching as it glumly rubbed its sore wrist.

Damn and buggeration. Hamfast was sure to know something was up, and he would definitely have a few questions for the both of them. The cart came closer, and Hamfast lifted a hand in greeting.

“Bless my turnips! If it isn't Mr. Bilbo! What're you doing all the way out here? And who's that strange fellow you're with?” asked the hobbit, drawing his cart to a stop. He pushed his hat up a little on his head while he blinked over at the creature, scratching at his chin.

Bilbo tried to pull his best, friendliest smile.

“Ah, well, rather funny story, that, actually!” Bilbo laughed, hoping his tone wasn't as panicked as it sounded to his own two ears.

What on earth would he do if Hamfast suspected something, and refused to take them back to Bag End? His neighbour was a very reputable hobbit, after all, and Hamfast liked things to be right, and proper.

This creature was neither of the two.

“You see,” Bilbo continued, glancing back to where the creature was now watching them with interest, though with the skirt and the hat, it just looked like a rather strange, well...

“You see... He's a dwarf. Yes, a dwarf, from, ah, a very distant Kingdom. From Erebor, in fact! Very far to the east, and he's travelling to visit his family in the Blue Mountains. Only, you understand, he's become rather lost. And he's had a little accident.”

Hamfast looked slowly from the creature and back to Bilbo, nose twitching.

“Quite the accident, so it seems to me, the poor chap's lost his clothes, unless that's what he usually wears.”

“Yes, well, you know what it's like!” Bilbo laughed, loudly.

“... I'm afraid not, Mr. Bilbo, sir,” Hamfast slowly replied.

Damn. Damn, blast, and damn! The jig was up. Hamfast wasn't buying his explanation – and really, it was hardly a decent one! Now how were they going to get home? The poor creature was hurt, and he was fast running out of honeycakes with which to tempt it onwards. Certainly he didn't have enough to coax it from here all the way to his front door.

Bilbo felt his heart sink down into his feet.

“Well,” Hamfast said after a few seconds of silence, scratching his chin again, “The way I see it, you and your guest need a helping ride back to your smial, if you'll pardon my assumptions.”

“No! Yes! Quite!” Bilbo cried, relief washing through him, “What I mean, of course, is yes. Please. It's been a rather long morning, and my guest and I are quite eager to get home.”

The other hobbit nodded his head kindly, pushing his hat back to its proper place on his head.

“Up you hop then, Mr. Bilbo, sir, and your guest, if he will.”

“Of course, of course, this is really very kind of you, I'll just fetch him,” replied Bilbo.

He turned back to the creature just in time to see it trying to pull at the blanket wrapped around its middle. Bilbo gasped, rushing over to tug it closed again just as it exposed one big hoof and furred ankle.

“None of that,” Bilbo hissed, glancing over his shoulder. But Hamfast was looking off into the woods, and didn't seem to have noticed anything.

Good.

“Come on,” said Bilbo, taking the creature's good arm and gently helping it back onto its feet, “Come along, now. Into the cart, please, and we'll get you home before you can say teapots and saucepans!”

It groaned, loudly, and promptly sat back down.

“... Come on,” he tried again, “We're going to go home! My good neighbour Mr. Hamfast is kindly going to give us a lift back to Bag End-- oh!”

The creature groaned again, tugging it's arm out of Bilbo's grip with a scowl. Then it crossed its arms, made a very rude noise indeed, and turned its head away.

For a moment Bilbo stood there, mouth open and hands hanging by his side.

“Now _look_ ,” he growled, putting one hand on his hip and waggling his finger at the creature, “That was a very rude way to treat a poor fellow only trying to help you! I freed you from that nasty trap, I've given you my food and water, I've clothed you, and now I'm trying to take you to where I can patch up that poor wrist of yours, and your sore ankles. But if you'd rather be left here, out in the cold, then...! Well! Fine!” he finished, cheeks pink and a little breathless.

The creature was staring at him by the end of his rant, eyes flicking from the finger inches from it's nose back to Bilbo's face.

Finally it heaved a sigh, and seemed to deflate before Bilbo's very eyes. It reached up to grip the hobbit's shoulder, standing with another groan and using poor Bilbo as leverage.

“ _Thank_ you,” Bilbo said primly, putting an arm around its waist and leading it over to the back of the cart. He grunted with the effort of pushing it up the little steps and sitting it down on the low bench along the sides of the cart, flopping down beside the creature.

“All on?” Hamfast asked, looking around just as Bilbo had managed to tuck a stray ear back into the makeshift hat and rearrange the blanket to cover the creature's queer legs.

“Yes, yes. Thank you, my dear fellow. I'm afraid my guest doesn't speak much Westron, so you'll have to excuse his conversation skills, if you would,” Bilbo smiled, a little wanly.

“Nothing wrong with a bit of peace and quiet,” Hamfast replied, pulling a pipe from his pocket and sticking it in his mouth. The older hobbit flicked his reins, and the cart rolled into motion.

Relief flooded Bilbo. They were on their way home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little collab series between the incredible talented, wonderful [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com), and myself. The beautiful art was drawn by [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com) and the words written by myself!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr!](http://www.yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com)
> 
> Merry Christmas to those who celebrate the holiday, and we hope everyone has a great day today, regardless of what they celebrate!


	5. Riddles in the Cart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little collab series between the incredible talented, wonderful [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com), and myself. The beautiful art was drawn by [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com) and the words written by myself!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr!](http://www.yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com)
> 
> I hope everyone had a fantastic new year! Onwards and upwards into 2016 we go!

 

 

 

Just as Bilbo was starting to relax into the journey, the creature decided to sigh loudly and scrape its hooves against the floor of the cart. Hamfast's pipe twitched in his mouth, and he glanced over his shoulder.

Oh, bother. Hamfast always had questions. Impeccably worded, of course, but troublesome, tricksy questions nevertheless – and he was an excellent riddler, too.

“Doesn't speak much Westron, eh?”

“Oh, no. Barely a word! And, well, being a dwarf, he's rather shy,” answered Bilbo in a very serious tone. He reached over, tugging the blanket back down over the edge of a gleaming hoof. The creature really wasn't helping him at all.

He looked up to give it a warning frown, but there was a small, soft smile on its lips, and Bilbo felt his annoyance drain away through his toes. How he wished he could just _talk_ to it, explain what was happening, and to ask it to please behave nicely.

“And the poor chap's had a terrible accident, you said, Mr. Bilbo, sir?” Hamfast asked, eyes once more fixed on the road ahead.

“Oh, yes. Quite terrible! And, well, I could hardly leave someone out in the forest without any help, now, could they?”

No, not all tied up and in pain. Not with such bright blue eyes. Bilbo gently patted the creature's knee, crooking a smile back up at it.

“And that he's from a mighty kingdom in the east, travelling to visit his family in the Blue Mountains?” the older hobbit continued.

“Yes, quite so,” Bilbo replied, reaching up to tuck the tip of a soft ear back into the makeshift hat.

Hamfast made an impressed sounding noise, flicking his reins to encourage the pony to keep up her pace.

“By my turnips, Mr. Bilbo, sir, you must be a mighty clever fellow indeed to learn all that from a chap who doesn't speak any Westron.”

Oh, bother.

Bother, bother, bother. His mother had always told him not to lie. The webs you wove by lying were sticky, and impossible to escape – clinging to you like smeary jam and ruining your nice things. Now he'd gone and ruined his story by trying to be too clever, and by lying.

“Well... Well,” he blustered, attempting to come up with some way out of his mistake.

He was saved, however, by Hamfast looking over his shoulder again just as the creature grabbed at its flimsy hat, and shoved the dangling cuff of Bilbo's shirt into its mouth.

It started to chew, the edge of the sleeve trailing from between its lips and up into the hat.

Bilbo gaped, utterly lost for words. It was eating his good shirt, as if it was a nice slice of apple pie, or a delicious bread roll!

“Why, Mr. Bilbo, sir! Do pardon me for the accusation, but what a terrible host you're being! Your poor guest is so hungry, he's started to eat his hat!” Cried Hamfast, “This won't do at all, if you'll pardon me! There's a nice hamper by your feet. By all means open it up, and have yourselves some elevenses.”

“Very kind of you, Hamfast,” Bilbo replied, rather weakly.

He quickly dragged the hamper out. It was finely woven, a beautiful golden yellow colour, and with good, sturdy clasps. Bilbo opened it, pulling back the chequered blanket.

The hamper was half full of delicious looking foods. There was a whole basket of apples and plums, a little bowl of strawberries, several bread rolls, a whole box of honey-snap biscuits, half a meat pie, a selection of cold meats and cheeses, and several water skins.

Bilbo had never felt more fondly for his good friend and neighbour.

“Here we are,” he said to the creature, pulling out several honey-snap biscuits and another water skin, handing them over. It took them gladly, immediately crunching into the biscuits and letting the cuff drop from its mouth.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Bilbo tucked the cuff into the hat again, and straightened the blanket. All in all, really, this was going rather well. They were making good time, and the creature was happy with a mouth full of food. Really, though, thought Bilbo fondly, who wasn't?

Something moved out of the corner of his eye.

Bilbo glanced over, and blinked. Behind it, low on the creature's back, was a lump moving to and fro, quick enough a soft shwip-shwip noise could be heard.

What on earth _was_ it?

Bilbo almost dropped the honey-snap he'd taken for himself. Of course! The creature's tail! It was munching biscuits with a pleased look on its face as the cart rocked and bumped along the road, wagging its tail without a care in the world. Bilbo realised it had to be feeling happy and relaxed – and while happy and relaxed was what he wanted the creature to be, Hamfast was sure to notice the strange lump.

Without thinking he reached over and grabbed it, trying to stop it from moving.

The creature yelped, springing to its feet and almost losing the blanket all together as the pony stamped and neighed in fright, and poor Hamfast's pipe dropped from his lips onto his lap with a cloud of smoke.

“My goodness! Mr. Bilbo, sir! What is the meaning of this?!” Exclaimed Hamfast, turning to look just as Bilbo leapt to his feet to catch the blanket before it fell.

He gaped at Hamfast, his brain working as fast as it could and his fingers moving quickly to secure the blanket back around the creature.

“Oh! Oh, it's! It's a thank you! In, ah, in the language of the dwarves!” Bilbo gasped, ignoring the confused and wounded look the creature was giving him, mouth still full of biscuit.

“A thank you?” Hamfast repeated, looking very sceptical indeed.

“Oh, yes! A thank you! Yah!” Bilbo yelped, trying to recreate the creature's noise as he sat it back down, leaning against the side of the cart so he could hide its covered tail, “Just like that, you see, my good Hamfast. A sturdy, hearty thank you. For your generosity, and patience.”

Hamfast didn't look entirely convinced, but the hobbit turned back to his reins and pony, and within a few seconds their cart was moving once more.

“... I am sorry,” Bilbo whispered, patting the creature's knee, “I didn't mean to grab your tail and cause you any distress.”

The creature crooked the hint of a little smile and placed its warm, broad hand over Bilbo's smaller one.

Hope kindled in Bilbo's chest.

It might not understand his words, but it seemed to understand what Bilbo was trying to do. It grabbed a handful of the cold cuts and shoved them into its mouth, chewing in a content fashion as it leaned back against the cart and sighed.

“Hah,” Hamfast said, “At least your guest has a good appetite, Mr. Bilbo, sir, and quite likes my wife's cooking!”

“He does indeed,” laughed Bilbo, “He does indeed – as do I.”

“Well, then,” the older hobbit smiled, looking over his shoulder at them with a twinkle in his eye, “You and your guest should come to supper, if you'd like to.”

Oh, damn. Damn, blast, and bother.

How was he going to get them out of supper at the Gamgees?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little collab series between the incredible talented, wonderful [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com), and myself. The beautiful art was drawn by [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com) and the words written by myself!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr!](http://www.yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com)


	6. A Short Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little collab series between the incredible talented, wonderful [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com), and myself. The beautiful art was drawn by [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com) and the words written by myself!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr!](http://www.yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com)

 

 

 

 

“Hamfast, my dearest fellow, really you are simply too kind – but, you see, the terrible thing is, well, it's that my guest here, he's...” Bilbo stuttered, looking over at the creature.

Inspiration dawned as it rubbed at its sore wrist.

“Well, he's hurt, you see. I think it would be best if I just took him home.”

Hamfast nodded his head in understanding and shot them both a kindly look, the sunlight glinting off his pipe.

“Of course, Mr. Bilbo, sir. I'll bring round a few pies and casseroles later tonight, then, save you a bit of cooking while you look after your guest.”

Bilbo's heart swelled with fondness for his friend. He was so kind, so giving, and his cooking... well. It would be most welcomed.

“Thank you, Hamfast, you're a very good friend,” he smiled, meaning every word. His neighbour waved his hand, turning back to the pony and the road.

The rest of the journey was quiet, the sun shining and birds twittering in the hazel thicket, the smell of freshly mown grass thick and sweet in the summer air.

It wasn't long before the houses on the edges of Hobbiton came into view, and then his own hill, and his own smial.

“Look,” he said to the creature, which had gone silent as it ate and watched the scenery roll by, “That's my home, up there. With the green door. See it?”

Bilbo pointed, waiting until the creature had turned to look. It huffed out a noise, raising its eyebrows.

“Bag End. My father built it, you know. For my mother. Not that they're there now, they--...” he cut himself off, a wave of sorrow rising hard and fast inside him.

The creature cocked its head and knocked its knee against Bilbo's, a warmth in its bright eyes.

“Well. Nevermind,” Bilbo said softly, patting the creature's knee over the blanket absent mindedly, “This is home.”

Hamfast urged his pony up the little path, pulling his cart to a stop outside Bilbo's front door.

“Here we are, Mr. Bilbo, sir. Do you need a hand with the fellow, to get him inside, I mean?”

“Oh, no! No, we'll be quite alright, we'll just take it nice and slowly. Get him settled down, nothing to worry about, my dear Hamfast, but thank you. Thank you so much for all your help and hospitality,” he smiled, grasping Hamfast's hands between his own and shaking them for a moment.

His neighbour chuckled and shook his head, patting Bilbo's shoulder.

“Nothing to thank me for. I'll stop by later with some dinner. Or supper, at the latest. Good luck, now,” he added.

Bilbo thanked him again, hopping down from the cart and beckoning the creature to follow him. It grunted, lurching a little on sore ankles, but by some magic the hat and skirt stayed on, and it clambered down without flashing too much hoof or furred leg.

It yawned, and for the first time Bilbo noticed how exhausted it looked. There were dark circles under its piercing blue eyes, and its shoulders drooped with weariness.

“There we are, steady does it,” he murmured, guiding the creature through his gate and up the little steps to his front door, pushing it open. The creature hesitated by the threshold, peering inside before it let Bilbo lead it properly inside.

He closed the door behind them, a sense of satisfaction swelling up inside him as he dropped his backpack onto the floor. He'd done it. The creature was safe, and he'd managed to get it home without Hamfast suspecting a thing.

“Right...! I suppose we're done with these, now,” he smiled, gently taking off the slightly chewed hat and the makeshift skirt, letting them lay where they fell.

The creature yawned again, rubbing the heel of its palm against its eyes and stumbling a little as Bilbo gently urged it into the sitting room. It was quite happy to sit down on the wide sofa, immediately leaning back into the soft cushions with a groan, tipping its head back and closing its eyes.

“Better...?” smiled Bilbo, patting its knees, “I'll be right back. I'll get you some tea and then we'll see to your wrists and ankles, alright? Just stay here.”

As Bilbo moved away it reached out, gently taking Bilbo's hand and stopping him. Slowly it pointed to its chest.

“Thorin,” it said, in a voice like thunderstorms and little rivers deep underground. Like a secret and a grand declaration, all rolled into one word.

Bilbo felt his cheeks burn, his mouth opening and closing before he could speak.

“O-Oh, oh, that's--... Thorin,” he repeated, nodding his head, “Thorin, yes. I'm Bilbo. Bilbo,” he said again, pointing to his chest, “And Thorin. Yes. Right. Well. I'll--... I'll fetch that medicine now, for you, if...”

Thorin smiled, squeezing Bilbo's wrist and letting go, leaning back against the sofa.

Bilbo fled from the room, oddly light-headed. Thorin. Its name was Thorin.

He exhaled slowly and put the kettle on, lighting the stove and preparing a tray of foods and teas – as well as some painkillers and supplies to treat injuries and bruises.

Thorin. It could speak, and its name was Thorin.

When the kettle had boiled he poured out two mugs of tea and carried the tray through to the sitting room. But as he stepped into the room, he paused. Thorin was curled up on the sofa, eyes closed, and – from the looks of it – fast asleep.

“Oh,” he breathed, “Well then.”

Tea and medicine would have to wait.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little collab series between the incredible talented, wonderful [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com), and myself. The beautiful art was drawn by [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com) and the words written by myself!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr!](http://www.yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com)


	7. Safe at Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little collab series between the incredible talented, wonderful [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com), and myself. The beautiful art was drawn by [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com) and the words written by myself!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr!](http://www.yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com)

 

 

 

 

Bilbo rather suspected it was the smell of Hamfast's cooking that woke Thorin. He'd just begun pottering around the kitchen, trying to work out what to make, when there had been a soft knock on the door. Hamfast, his arms piled high with pies, casseroles, biscuits, teas, cakes, and all sorts of delights. Bilbo had taken them with absolute joy, insisting on gifting Hamfast with three bottles of his best wines for his generosity. His friend had left with a cheery smile on his face, and with well wishes for Bilbo's guest.

“You're awake,” Bilbo said as Thorin grunted and stretched out on the sofa. The creature had rolled onto its stomach during its nap, face buried in the cushions, and Bilbo watched as it yawned deeply, propping itself up on its elbows and blinking over.

Slowly, it nodded its head.

“And you do understand me,” Bilbo continued, crooking a small smile as he brought a tray over – laden with food and teas. “Hamfast brought these for us. He wishes you a swift recovery.”

Thorin hummed out a low noise, rolling onto its side. It glanced down, plucking at the blanket Bilbo had covered it with when it was asleep.

“My mother's. It's the warmest one in the house,” he explained, bringing over a little side table and putting the tray securely onto it. He poured the creature a cup of medicinal tea, adding honey to sweeten the bitter willow bark taste.

Bilbo glanced up, watching as Thorin ran his thumb over the knitted stitches, inspecting them.

“She made it herself. Here, drink this. It'll help with the pain. I've got more things, too – just let me get them!”

He bustled out of the sitting room, returning as quick as he could with the little basket of medical supplies he kept in his bathroom. Bilbo set it down on the floor beside the sofa, perching on the edge of the cushion.

The creature watched him with open curiosity, one ear flicking as it sipped the tea.

“Your wrist still looks dreadfully sore,” Bilbo said softly. He took the creature's hand with the utmost care, peering at the thick joint.

The skin was red and swollen, and some blisters and rope burns had developed. But there weren't any weird lumps or bumps, and as he moved Thorin's palm and fingers back and forth, it was clear nothing was broken.

“Well! Good news. I don't think it's broken – just very tender. I'll put this on – it's a lovely balm, my grandfather bought the recipe from a dwarf, you know. Very out of fashion, now, dwarven medicine, but in my opinion we hobbits are more dwarf-like than we are elf-like; and certainly not very much like men at all! This'll do the trick in no time,” he finished confidently, taking some of the balm onto his fingertips and beginning to gently rub it into the injured skin.

Thorin hissed out a soft noise of pain, but didn't speak.

“... You don't very much like to talk, do you?” Bilbo murmured as he kept adding more salve.

The creature shook its head a little.

“Even though you understand me? Or, well, most of it, I assume.”

It nodded. Bilbo finished rubbing the salve onto its skin, taking a little roll of fine linen and tying it round its wrist – looping it over the creature's thumb and palm to keep it in place.

“There,” he said, pushing himself to sit on the floor. “Let's have a look at those ankles, now.”

Bilbo gently lifted one of Thorin's hooves, it heavy and bigger than his whole hand, black and shiny. The skin around the slim ankles was much the same as the skin around the creature's wrist, though it was harder to see under the dense fur. Nevertheless, he dutifully rubbed the salve in and tied two bandages around them – making sure they were loose enough not to cause any more pain.

“Better?” he asked, wiping his hands off on a towel and smiling widely.

“Yes,” Thorin said, voice gruff. Bilbo grinned, clasping his fingers behind his back and rocking up onto his toes a little.

“Good! Good. I'm very glad to hear it. Well! Tuck in,” he beamed, gesturing to the dinner. “Tuck in. There's plenty more. I'll fetch you some more tea.”

He hurried off, putting the basket of medicines back in the bathroom and returning with more tea. Thorin was eating, grasping the spoon in his hand like he'd read about how to use one, but hadn't tried before. Bilbo quickly fetched his own tray, settling down on the armchair next to the sofa.

“These are from Hamfast – I think I mentioned. He's a very dear friend of mine. His father knew my father, they've been living on this hill for, goodness! For generations. He's been very kind to me. You know, when my parents died and I took over the smial, I hadn't even realised my father paid Hamfast for his work? I was so naïve, it never even crossed my mind. But he was so kind about it, and I was so embarrassed. But he was so kind about it,” Bilbo repeated, a little softer, his gaze fixed on his bowl of stew.

“... He used to bring me home cooking all the time, after my parents-- ...”

He stopped, swallowing hard against the sudden burning in his throat. Thorin's warm hand on his knee startled him out of his stillness and he looked up. The creature was leaning over, its bright blue eyes darker in the candlelight, and its handsome, strong face softened.

It leaned in further. Bilbo's heart gave a funny leap in his chest, twisting and jumping, and he opened his mouth to ask what on earth it was doing. But before he could speak, the creature was gently knocking its forehead against Bilbo's and sitting back with a low hum, picking up the spoon again and eating with renewed enthusiasm.

Bilbo's mouth opened and closed before he finally snapped it shut, his cheeks burning.

“Oh. Thank you. I think,” he said, shaking his head a little in bemusement, his heart still fluttering in his chest.

Thorin simply nodded and shoved an entire scone into his mouth.

Bilbo smiled, taking a mouthful of stew.

He could get used to a guest. For a little while, at least.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little collab series between the incredible talented, wonderful [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com), and myself. The beautiful art was drawn by [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com) and the words written by myself!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr!](http://www.yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com)
> 
> You should also check out [Kitty's amazing work](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenKitty/pseuds/HiddenKitty), featuring SUPER cute kid and teen Satyr bagginshield! It's gorgeous, and so well written!


	8. Inside Information

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little collab series between the incredible talented, wonderful [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com), and myself. The beautiful art was drawn by [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com) and the words written by myself!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr!](http://www.yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com)

 

 

 

It wasn't too long before he and Thorin had finished their dinner, Bilbo quickly washing up their bowls and spoons, and tidying up the kitchen. Drying his hands on a teatowel, he went back into the sitting room with a warm smile on his face.

“Now. I think a bath would do you a great deal of good, and set you up for a good night's sleep.”

The creature cocked an eyebrow from where it had spread out on the sofa, still draped in the colourful blanket.

“I'll draw and heat the water,” he nodded. Perhaps Thorin didn't have baths. Come to think of it, what sort of food did it eat? What clothes did it wear, if any? What sort of home did it have?

Bilbo scratched at his chin, lighting the burners underneath the copper tank, built into the stone wall by the bath. A very clever invention of his father's, though Bilbo suspected it had been built with several instruction letters from the dwarf family in the Blue Mountains Bungo traded with, as he'd had to order in special parts to make it work. Coals in the base heated the water stored in the copper tank, the smoke drawn out of a little chimmney. He simply had to leave it burning for a little while, and then when he turned on the taps, hot water would pour from it.

In the meanwhile, it was time for Bilbo to look for that very old book on curious creatures and flora his mother had bought from the elves. She'd always had such wonderful things, and though Bilbo tried very hard to gift her possessions to others for birthdays and the like, sometimes the pain of losing her and her items was too overwhelming.

He opened the door to what had been his mother's crafting room, a candle-lamp in his hand, now piled high with wooden crates of their things.

Bilbo inhaled sharply, the smell of her rose petal perfume still lingering in the air. Hamfast had quietly commented once that the room looked as if it was waiting to be unpacked when Belladonna and Bungo returned. It was truer than Bilbo had wanted to hear, and for a while he'd resented Hamfast for the comments.

Somehow, though, he was right. If he closed his eyes and breathed in, he could almost believe he'd hear his father's whistling, and his mother's laughter throughout Bag End, as if they were coming home from a holiday.

Bilbo sighed, steadying himself at the door before he moved in towards the chests, opening one up and kneeling before it, putting the candle to the side. Neatly labeled, 'Books: Belladonna', it wasn't long before he found the slim, elven tome.

“Now, let's see what we have here,” he said to himself, letting it fall open. Naturally it was written in Sindarin, and though he was rather out of practice, the book had many helpful illustrations. He slowly flicked through the thin pages, past the different types of elves and the dwarves, the petty dwarves of the First Age, hobbits, the cave trolls and Balrogs, past the Istari with their curious names and the Valar, past dragons and goblins and orcs and oliphants and wargs and all sorts of other creatures, right up to the last page.

Bilbo frowned.

That couldn't be right. If he could find something like Thorin in the old forest, the elves who had walked these lands since before the sun and moon _had_ to know what it was. Perhaps it just didn't have a picture. He huffed out a sigh, turning back to the front page.

This time, on the page just after the petty dwarves, Bilbo came across a small passage.

_'Though none but the dwarves and perhaps a few of the Hobbit-folk living by the mouth of the great Anduin have reported to have seen such creatures, the author must here make mention of another sort of thinking creature not devised by the hands of Eru Íluvar, nor Aulë, nor any other of the Valar with the wish to create life._

Dratted elves, Bilbo thought to himself, his head spinning. How they loved their long, rambling sentences!

_Indeed, these creatures have no name of which has been taught to us by the Valar, nor no name of their own that they wish to offer upon questioning. In the absence of a preferred name, they are called the Satros by the dwarves, though the author must here make mention that the name of them in the secret language of the dwarves is not known to any elven scholar, and called Satria in the Sindarin tongue, and called Saturos in the Quenya tongue, and called Faunos by the menfolk, and by those living on the banks of the swift-flowing Anduin, they are called the Satyr._

“The Satyr...” Bilbo whispered, almost to himself.

_The Satria resemble the merry meeting of a dwarf and a goat, standing around the same height of the dwarven folk, their proportions of equal ilk. Broad and stocky across shoulder, chest, and face, they sport two legs of a goat, each shod with thick hooves and brashly furred. Upon their heads and hidden underneath thick hair sit horns ranging in description, though the author must here make mention that these varieties may simply be mis-recalled memories of the Satria, coming from such sources as those not elven. They sport two long ears in the style of a goat, and grow beards. You will now understand, o reader, why the author has likened them to both goat and dwarf. Regardless, they may be considered one of the half-folk, along with hobbits and goblins._

“Hobbits and goblins!” exclaimed Bilbo, snapping the book shut and putting it back in his mother's crate with a huff. “How rude!”

Still, there was no doubt about it.

Thorin was a Satyr – by his ancestor's tongue, at least, and their kind had had some dealings with the little folk at some point. He brushed down his trousers and closed the crate, hurrying out of the room with his candle, shutting the door firmly behind him.

“A Satyr,” he said again to himself as he turned the taps on for the bath, watching the hot water splash into the wooden tub. He'd have to make notes. Compile his own observations – a few sketches, a record of the words Thorin knew... He'd write the first book on them! Long before any snooty elf!

But first, Bilbo thought to himself, it was bath time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Someone reported my fics on Ao3 - This is why!](http://yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com/post/148307664796/so-someone-reported-me-on-ao3)
> 
>  
> 
> This fic is a collab between [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com), and myself. The beautiful art was drawn by [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com) and the words written by myself!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr!](http://www.yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com)
> 
> You should also check out [Kitty's amazing work](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenKitty/pseuds/HiddenKitty), featuring SUPER cute kid and teen Satyr bagginshield! It's gorgeous, and so well written!


	9. Out Of The Sitting Room, And Into The Bath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little collab series between the incredible talented, wonderful [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com), and myself. The beautiful art was drawn by [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com) and the words written by myself!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr!](http://www.yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com)

 

 

 

“Thorin!” Bilbo called, rolling up his shirt sleeves as he walked back into the sitting room. The satyr was still laying on the couch, half draped in the blanket. It looked over and slowly raised one eyebrow.

Bilbo smiled, gesturing to the bathroom. “Come on,” he said. “Bath time. You'll feel a lot better for it, I think, and you won't get my bedsheets covered in mud. Not--,” he interrupted himself, flushing deep red. “Not _my_ bedsheets. I didn't mean you'd be in my own bed, my word, I just meant any bedsheets you're in. That's all. It's bath time,” he repeated, hoping the creature wouldn’t pick up on his miswording.

Thorin pushed the blanket off itself, standing up and stretching. It winced at the weight on its ankles though, and there was still a definite hobble in its step as it followed Bilbo into the bathroom.

“Here we are,” said Bilbo, pointing to the bath. “In you get.”

The satyr looked from Bilbo to the bath. Then it took a few steps towards the tub and froze, its ears flattening down and its shoulders rising. It looked back to Bilbo, surprise and anger flashing across its face.

Bilbo blinked.

“Are you alright? Look,” he said, going over to show Thorin the burning coals in the copper contraption above the tub. “The water's hot!”

Thorin's hooves skittered across the tiling as it shoved himself back from the bath, pressing itself against the opposite wall.

 

 

 

“No,” it barked, voice rough and low.

“What-- … What do you mean, 'no'? You're filthy! I'm not trying to be rude, but look here, I can't in good conscience let you sleep caked in mud. It'll do your hurts no good, that's for certain.”

“No,” said Thorin again, a little louder. The satyr shook its head firmly, hair flying. Twigs and leaves scattered onto the tiles.

Bilbo took a deep breath, putting his hands on his hips.

“Now look,” he said, using his best Aunt Belba voice. “This is non-negotiable. You are having a bath, whether you like it or not.”

Thorin didn't move. It shook its head again, breathing quickly. Bilbo wilted and went over to the creature, but as Thorin pressed back further against the wall, he stopped.

“What on earth's the matter? Thorin, it's just a bath...! You can't drown, you just sit in it. Look, there's even little steps to get in,” he said, pointing to the side of the tub.

When that failed to comfort the creature, Bilbo went back over to the bath.

What on earth was so scary about this? It was just a bath, for goodness sake! Not to mention the water was cooling, and Thorin was missing out on the lovely warmth.

He dunked his hand into the water to check the temperature and jumped as Thorin suddenly dashed over to him, bodily lifting him away from the water with a shout of alarm.

“What the-- !? Thorin! Put me down!” he yelped.

Bilbo stumbled as he was dropped, his head spinning as Thorin grabbed his wet arm, looking at it intently.

“Thorin...! What the fiddlesticks are you _doing_?” he asked, shaking his head to clear it as his heart pounded between his ribs.

The satyr frowned, turning Bilbo's hand over.

“... Hurt...?” it said softly, touching the damp, warm skin.

Bilbo felt a flush stain his cheeks as Thorin's fingers spread over his forearm.

“No. No, not hurt, not at all. The water's not that hot, it's just-- … Oh.” The seed dropped. “You thought it was going to hurt you? Like I was going to put you in a stew, or something?” he asked, trying to keep a straight face.

Thorin nodded, but with the air of someone who knew they were about to get laughed at. Bilbo bit down hard on his bottom lip, trying to choke back his giggles. The satyr's ear flicked, brow furrowing as it frowned and crossed its arms, giving the bath another distrusting look.

Bilbo cracked, bursting into peals of laughter that had him clutching the side of the tub. Thorin scowled, huffing out a loud noise and tapping its hoof against the tiles. When Bilbo just kept laughing it gingerly touched the surface of the water, and then sank its hand below the surface.

Amazement drifted over its features. Bilbo finally regained control over his giggles.

“Well?” he grinned. “Climb in! I'm not going to cook you, after all.”

Thorin shot him a heavy look, taking its hand out from the water. It gripped the edge of the tub, delicately lifting its leg to climb in. The water splashed over the edges as the creature sat down, relaxing into the hot water with a long, low sigh.

“There. See? It's nice, isn't it? Though I think we'll have to change the water once or twice,” added Bilbo as the clear water quickly turned opaque.

He drew up a little stool, sitting beside the edge of the tub and handing Thorin a bar of soap.

“Here. For washing. Rub it over you,” he said. He mimicked the action, watching as the creature started to rub the soap over its skin.

This was going along quite nicely. Yes, Bilbo thought, this was all going along quite nicely indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Someone reported my fics on Ao3 - This is why!](http://yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com/post/148307664796/so-someone-reported-me-on-ao3)  
>   
> 
> This fic is a collab between [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com), and myself. The beautiful art was drawn by [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com) and the words written by myself!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr!](http://www.yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com)
> 
> You should also check out [Kitty's amazing work](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenKitty/pseuds/HiddenKitty), featuring SUPER cute kid and teen Satyr bagginshield! It's gorgeous, and so well written!


	10. A Thief In The Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little collab series between the incredible talented, wonderful [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com), and myself. The beautiful art was drawn by [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com) and the words written by myself!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr!](http://www.yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com)

 

 

 

 

After three water changes and a glimpse of something which confirmed Bilbo's suspicions that Thorin was indeed a 'he', if such things were to be assumed on certain traits they both possessed, Thorin was finally cleaned and dried. Even better, he was sitting happily on a large, soft stool in front of a little fire Bilbo had lit in the guest room, and sipping hot chamomile tea.

Thorin had brushed back his hair with a comb, which once belonged to Bilbo's mother, and then styled the dark locks into a thick braid laying down past his shoulders. Fresh bandages were around his ankles and wrists, and a plate of biscuits had been shared between them.

“Well,” Bilbo said with a yawn, standing up from his own stool. “It's definitely bed time for me.”

Thorin nodded, scratching his stomach and rising to his feet.

Hooves.

Which, Bilbo noted, looked a lot nicer and shinier after a bath.

They tapped across the tiled floor as Thorin went over to the bed, sitting down on the edge and peeling the covers back. He might not have known what the bath was, but he at least seemed to know how to use a bed.

Bilbo waited until the creature had pulled the covers over him before he set the little grate in place in front of the fire, blowing out the two large candles. He took the smaller one in its little holder, opening the door.

“Bilbo...?”

Thorin's voice was low, a touch of confusion in his tone. Bilbo looked over his shoulder to Thorin and smiled.

“I'll see you in the morning, Thorin. Don't worry, the grate will catch any sparks. Goodnight, then! Until the morrow!”

He gave Thorin a little wave and closed the door behind him.

The walk to his own bedroom felt cheery. It had been a good few years since someone had come to stay in his house, and Thorin was a very welcome guest – unlike horrible Lobelia, who was always looking for some souvenir to take home!

Tomorrow he would wake up and make them both breakfast. He had some eggs and some bread, and a little butter. There was a wheel of cheese, too, and some strawberry jam. Then he'd make little honey cakes for second breakfast, and lashings of bacon. He had scones for elevenses, and they'd use the uneaten bacon for sandwiches. A little summer soup and some potato cakes would do for lunch, he thought as he set the candle down on his bedside table and began to change into his pyjamas.

For afternoon tea he'd bake a seed cake in the morning, with whipped cream and rose flavoured sugar. There was a little mutton that needed using, and it would make a lovely stew for dinner.

Bilbo climbed into bed, settling down on the wide mattress and blowing out his candle. He wriggled his toes under the duvet and yawned deeply.

Supper would be whatever they hadn't finished earlier. Yes, he thought as he rolled onto his side and closed his eyes in the darkness, tomorrow was going to be a very nice day indeed.

“Bilbo?”

He jumped, sitting up in bed and blinking wildly at the door.

“Wh--? Who--...? Oh...! Oh, Thorin,” he said, his heart pounding. He must've fallen asleep. Normally it took hours, but tonight his head had barely touched the pillow before he'd been out like a spark. “What is it? What's the matter?”

Thorin held no candle. He was lit only by the gentle moonlight, wafting in through the curtain Bilbo hadn't fully closed.

The satyr closed the door behind him, stepping into the room and round Bilbo's bed. Then he sat down, shoved the covers back, and climbed in.

“Um,” Bilbo said, eloquently.

 

 

Was this a dream? It felt like a dream. Except Thorin's hoof was cold against his foot as the creature wriggled to get comfortable, a deep yawn rushing from him.

“Did you, ah... Sorry. Sorry, I'm not quite sure why you're here. Is everything alright?” he asked, his heart beating oddly quickly.

“Yes,” Thorin said, closing his eyes and pulling the duvet up to his neck.

“Right. Good. Right,” said Bilbo. He slowly lay back down, but after a moment of staring at the ceiling, he sat back up. “No, sorry, I still don't quite understand. You see, this is my bed.”

Thorin grunted, rolling onto his side, away from Bilbo.

“Yes,” he said, sounding less cheery than a moment before.

“Right. Why are you in it?”

Thorin didn't respond. Bilbo didn't know much about what other hobbits – or satyrs, in this case – looked like when they were sleeping, but Thorin seemed too still to actually be asleep.

He stopped himself from asking if Thorin was scared. It felt insulting, somehow. Thorin was clearly far stronger than him, and if anything frightening was to appear, Bilbo was going to be about as much use as a turnip in a potato salad.

But maybe, Bilbo thought, as he asked himself how long it had been since he'd shared a bed, maybe Thorin wasn't used to sleeping alone.

“... Do you usually sleep with, ah... with your family...?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” Thorin murmured, after a moment's hesitation.

Bilbo nodded and laid back down, pulling his share of the covers up over his chest.

“Alright, then. But if you kick me, I'll kick you back,” he said.

Thorin snorted, and he couldn't help but smile into the darkness. Bilbo closed his eyes, stifling another yawn against his hand. There was a dip in the mattress, and though they weren't touching, he could feel the heat radiating from the creature.

There was no way he would fall asleep. Especially not when Thorin began to breathe in a deep, rumbly way. No, he was going to lay here awake all night, and then he'd be in a terrible mood tomorrow, and he'd have to come up with some way so Thorin didn't feel lonely or unsettled tomorrow night when they went to their separate beds.

Bilbo shifted onto his side. Nope. Never going to drop back off.

A few moments later he was fast asleep, one of his feet touching the soft fur of Thorin's leg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Someone reported my fics on Ao3 - This is why!](http://yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com/post/148307664796/so-someone-reported-me-on-ao3)  
>     
> This fic is a collab between [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com), and myself. The beautiful art was drawn by [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com) and the words written by myself!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr!](http://www.yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com)
> 
> You should also check out [Kitty's amazing work](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenKitty/pseuds/HiddenKitty), featuring SUPER cute kid and teen Satyr bagginshield! It's gorgeous, and so well written!


	11. Now At Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little collab series between the incredible talented, wonderful [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com), and myself. The beautiful art was drawn by [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com) and the words written by myself!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr!](http://www.yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com)

 

 

Bilbo woke with a sneeze, shaking his head and drawing back from the tickly mass against his nose. He blinked in the weak sunlight, squinting at the black thread all over his hands.

Only it wasn't thread, he slowly realised, but hair.

A lot of long, dark hair. In his bed.

“Hello.”

Bilbo yelped, shuffling back from the low, deep voice so quickly he almost threw himself off the edge.

“Thorin,” he said, voice thick with sleep as it all came rushing back. The Satyr, the trap in the woods, the cart ride home, the bath, and then... Thorin creeping into his bed like a thief in the night.

He felt his cheeks warm up as Thorin half sat up, sweeping his long hair over his shoulder. It had come out of its braid in the night somehow, and with the covers around Thorin's belly, he looked... well, he looked...

 

 

 

“Um,” Bilbo replied, dragging his eyes up from Thorin's chest. “Breakfast?”

Thorin crooked a small smile and nodded his head. Then he swung his legs out of bed, hooves clacking on the floor as he sat on the edge of the mattress.

Right. Hooves. Of course.

He and Thorin were completely different creatures, and he was just giving him a place to recover before he went back to join his family. That was all. He was just being kindly, and unselfish.

Thorin stretched, his thick arms rising up above his head. The muscles across his back jumped and quivered, and his little tail waggled so hard it was a blur. Bilbo watched as Thorin pushed himself up onto his hooves, a frown pinching his lips when Thorin stumbled a little and grunted in pain, looking down at his ankles.

“Oh, dear. Still sore?” Bilbo asked, wriggling out of the bed and pulling on his dressing gown.

Thorin nodded morosely, sitting back on the bed and bending over to touch his ankles – but Bilbo batted his hands away before he could.

“No, no. None of that – you'll only make it worse. You've to leave it alone.”

Thorin shot him an affronted look, but he crossed his arms over his belly and huffed out a noise. Bilbo decided it was one of agreement, and smiled.

“Good. Well, I imagine some breakfast will make you forget all about those aches and pains soon enough. Nothing that can't be fixed by a good meal is worth worrying about – it'll sort itself out if it's meant to. That's what my father always said anyway, and he was full of good advice. Can you stand?”

Bilbo moved to Thorin's side as the satyr grunted again and pushed himself up onto wobbly hooves. He hobbled forwards, reaching out one big hand and putting it on Bilbo's shoulder for support.

Thorin's fingers were warm even through the dressing gown and Bilbo's pyjamas.

He cleared his throat, concentrating on helping Thorin walk through to the kitchen and then settling him down in a chair. After fussing around the kitchen and putting the kettle on the newly lit hearth, it wasn't long before Bilbo was bringing him a hot cup of tea.

“Scrambled eggs on toast is what you need. Eggs are awfully good for making you strong. My uncle made this fantastic egg soup, and he always said he'd take his recipe to the grave with him! Hah! Well, we're the sorry ones, because he really did, you know!” Bilbo exclaimed as he cracked six eggs into a bowl and began to whisk them with a little salt and pepper.

Thorin slurped his tea, sniffing when Bilbo poured the eggs into a saucepan and started to stir them. He cut a couple of slices of bread and put them on the rack over the hearth. As the smells of breakfast started to infuse the air, Bilbo hummed a little tune his mother used to sing when she was cooking.

Suddenly, Bag End felt like home again.

Bilbo put down a plate piled with toast and eggs in front of Thorin, the fruit bowl following along with a top up of tea to the satyr's mug.

With all the ferocity of someone who hadn't been fed in months, rather than hours, Thorin tucked into the meal.

“You'll give yourself a stomach ache if you eat that fast,” Bilbo laughed, taking a generous mouthful of his own food. Birdsong wafted through the window he'd opened while cooking, his little curtains dancing in the cool breeze. Though it was soon to be winter, the sun still shone brightly, and the stove kept the kitchen warm enough for some fresh air.

Thorin sighed happily when he was done, pushing the empty plate away and leaning back in his chair.

“Thank you,” he rumbled, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Oh, not at all! A pleasure. Are you still hungry? I've got a little cheese, if you'd like something to nibble on,” Bilbo replied, setting out a wooden plate of cheese and crackers, putting a few apples around the plate as well.

Once again, Thorin tucked in.

Bilbo grinned. A healthy appetite was definitely a good sign, and it had been a long while since he'd had cause to really feed someone. As his mother had fallen sicker and stopped cooking, he'd prepared meals for her, of course, even right to the end when all she could manage was a few mouthfuls of broth, and-...

He swallowed hard, turning away from Thorin as his eyes stung.

“Honey-cakes,” he mumbled to himself, hurrying to the pantry to find the ingredients. His breathing was a little rough, and he gripped one of the shelves for support. From the kitchen the sounds of Thorin's fork and knife were clear, along with the crunch of apples and the smell of cooked breakfast.

Bilbo hung his head.

“Oh, bother,” he whispered, the first tears rolling down his cheeks. Now he was being silly. Had he really not had anyone round for breakfast since his mother had passed? How easy it was to become a hermit, and not even notice...! He saw Hamfast all the time, and often met friends and family in the marketplace, or the Green Dragon, but when was the last time someone had been in his home?

With a sniffle Bilbo scrabbled for his handkerchief, dabbing at his eyes.

“Silly Bilbo Baggins... crying is no way to start the day, and you've a guest in your kitchen. Come now, buck up! Winter's always a melancholy time, but that's no excuse for such nonsense when you have things to do.”

He took a few deep breaths and pushed himself away from the shelf.

“Honey, flour, milk; eggs are in the kitchen. A little special spice, I think, as a treat,” he said firmly, wiping his eyes a last time and grabbing the ingredients.

Bilbo turned towards the door, freezing when he saw Thorin standing by it, concern on his handsome face. He had a bit of an odd stance, as if being on his hooves was painful – the left seeming more so than the right.

“Oh,” Bilbo said. “Oh, I'm just... it's awfully dusty in here. Not that the food's dusty, goodness, I just meant, well... well, nevermind,” he stuttered, hurrying out of the pantry with his cheeks burning.

As he walked past the satyr, Thorin's heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

“Bilbo,” he said, his low voice making all the hairs on Bilbo's feet stand on end. Bilbo looked up at him, opening his mouth to respond. But before he could, Thorin was giving his shoulder a squeeze and crooking a brief, gentle smile. “Thank you.”

“Not at all,” Bilbo breathed, his own lips twitching into a small smile to mirror Thorin's. “Not at all. Let's get you sat down again, before your ankles give out, hmn?”

Thorin nodded, limping as he walked them back into the kitchen and sat back down, picking up the half of an apple he hadn't finished.

Bilbo gave him another smile and started to prepare the honey-cakes.

Yes, it felt like home, again.

And that was no bad thing.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Someone reported my fics on Ao3 - This is why!](http://yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com/post/148307664796/so-someone-reported-me-on-ao3)  
>   
> 
> This fic is a collab between [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com), and myself. The beautiful art was drawn by [Rutobuka](http://www.rutobuka2.tumblr.com) and the words written by myself!
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr!](http://www.yubiwamonogatari.tumblr.com)
> 
> You should also check out [Kitty's amazing work](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenKitty/pseuds/HiddenKitty), featuring SUPER cute kid and teen Satyr bagginshield! It's gorgeous, and so well written!
> 
> I really loved writing this ;O;!!! What did you guys think? Let us know!


End file.
